Epicure
by InsanityInReverse
Summary: Anastasia is civilized. She dreads the wildness in Amelia, the girl who seems hellbent to get closer to her. Amelia is really a lot more domesticated than Anastasia thinks she is - she's a rather talented chef, actually - and would very much like to be "tamed" by Anastasia, if you will. [fem!Ame/fem!Aus]


**A/N **;; I wrote this piece for an assignment of school, took it home, saw the potential for an actual story, and began to expand it. That's how we got here, folks, with an AmeAus story that was originally planned to be a PruAus, but I'm all for being different, so let's try a crack pairing instead! This is also my first story that I wrote using exclusively nyo!nation forms, and for a femslash, I think it's okay. This story is going to be twelve chapters. I've already written three of them – the chapters won't be long, and I predict that this story will be marked complete by the end of the year.

Each chapter is going to be basically based around cooking, because, as mentioned before, it's _different_ – and I like different. This is my first time attempting to write this pairing, so wish me luck, please? Remember to leave a review, too, because I'm an amateur teenage author that needs _encouragement_ and tips on how to improve!

**Anastasia **is my name for fem!Austria. It shouldn't really matter that it's not a German name; I think it sounds refined, much like Austria is.  
**Amelia **is, of course, fem!America. I don't think that really needed any explaining.  
**Julchen **is fem!Prussia.  
**Madeline **is fem!Canada.  
**Francine **is fem!France.

Enjoy!

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**Epicure**

**…o…**

**Chapter One**

**…o…**

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_[Noun: epicure  
A person devoted to refined sensuous enjoyment]_

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The tip of the day is that if you use wild California bay laurel leaves in your cooking when the recipe calls for the kind of bay leaves you can pick up at the store, you must use half a leaf where the recipe calls for two or three leaves. The flavour is not exactly identical, but it is similar enough, and many learn to prefer the more pungent wild bay laurel over the domestic bay. Some people just tended to like wild things in general. Anastasia didn't, but Amelia did.

The following tip of the day is that you may gather the California bay laurel leaves by breaking off a branch while you are hiking in the hills, if you happen to be an adventurous person – which, again, Amelia was, but Anastasia was not. Summer is the best time to pick the branches, as the twigs are drier and snap much easier. However, a downfall to this is that the leaves have an especially strong taste in the summer and might be overwhelming to cook with, or even travel with it at all. Anastasia thought Amelia was overwhelming. Amelia thought Anastasia was overwhelming, too, but for a completely different reason than the Austrian did.

Once you bring the branch home, it isn't necessary to do anything particularly special with it. You can hang it from the edge of your spice shelf by piercing it with a thumb tack, though tying it up with a string is another option if the branch is resistant. Amelia failed to bind Anastasia. Anastasia was resistant towards her and her advances through and through.

The bay laurel leaves don't wilt, nor do they grow very stale, though they are tenderer than the conventional bay leaves. Amelia was tenderer than Anastasia was used to, more tender than she knew. Anastasia had expected Amelia to eventually stale on her, but that didn't happen. It reasonable to wait a few days before putting the leaves in a bottle, if that's what you wish to do. It's tidier that way, and it's certainly possible that the leaves are able to retain their flavour better when kept sealed. Anastasia liked to keep things tidy. Amelia was willing to be kept, to be allowed the other woman for any extended period of time, just so long as Anastasia expression a preference towards her. But Anastasia refused to admit to anything regarding Amelia.

The French like to put bay leaves into a large variety of savoury foods, including béchamel, which is a beautiful word for plain cream sauce. Béchamel is delicate and California bay laurel leaves could easily overbalance the flavour and ruin it if you don't remember to use much less of the leaf. Amelia was careful about making béchamel – because, contrary to Anastasia's first impression of her, she took pride in her meals. Fast food was not the only thing she ate – it was more of a guilty habit than anything else. She put the sauce into a casserole along with the bay leaf and an onion studded with cloves before placing it in the stove while she set to preparing the rest of her meal. Julchen had told her what Anastasia's favourite meal was, passing on the knowledge with a little smirk and a pat on the shoulder for good luck, drawing a certain sense of amusement from the American's endeavours.

Amelia was anxious about the hollandaise sauce, and she crouched in front of the stove, watching as it cooked, fiddling with her hands. She was not a natural cook – the majority of her recipes had been passed down to her from Madeline, her sister, or Francine, their cousin. But at least once she started the soufflé, after the béchamel was made and the eggs separated, she would be able to breathe easier – the hardest part of her preparation would be over. She had really faced her demons making the hollandaise sauce, taking extra care that it hadn't broke, even going as far as to call Francine and have her cousin walk her through the steps she wasn't sure about, and then keeping her talking only for consolation purposes.

A kitchen with a branch of bay laurel leaves hanging in it smells clean and airy, much like the natural scent of the forest or the smell of the streets after the rain. Amelia's kitchen was small, but the smell of the bay laurel seemed to open it up. The only table in her entire apartment was two feet away from the stove, situated with two chairs – because Amelia couldn't really fit company in her small apartment; she was usually forced to hustle whoever was visiting out before the third person arrived. She hadn't gone all the way with lit candles, dimmed lights and soft music, but she had opened a bottle of wine and had made a noble attempt at cleaning up.

Some people liked to have decorative wreaths made of bay laurel branches and garden herbs – rosemary is a popular choice, as is thyme. Other herbs take more efforts to situate them to make sure they complemented the room. But Amelia wasn't really much of a decorator – besides cooking, she didn't do much that was all that domestic, and the largest decoration she had in her space was the American flag hanging above her bed.

She knew Anastasia liked a minimalist and quiet colour scheme, and Amelia hoped that would work to her advantage. Anastasia had agreed to come to dinner, after all, though Amelia wasn't exactly sure why, given that Anastasia had said not one encouraging word for her yet. She had asked Julchen if she could somehow convince the Austrian to agree to her invitation, so perhaps that was the reason – and if she knew Julchen at all, the German– excuse her, the _Prussian _had set her nuisance standards to an all-time high until Anastasia had finally snapped and agreed.

Amelia grinned at the thought.

It was going to be a good night.

* * *

Possibly the best use of California bay laurel leaves is in the old-fashioned pot roast. Anastasia had arrived for dinner exactly at the time she had promised – which, much to Amelia's disappointment, hadn't gone as well as she had thought it would – and had left after the last potato was eaten, leaving hardly any time for small talk. Because of that, Amelia hadn't been able to get out more than two suggestive comments. She had eaten the leftover soufflé for breakfast and every bite reminded her that Anastasia had not spent the night with her.

Bay laurel leaf and wine make a natural and very compelling combination. That night, Amelia took half the pot roast and some of the remaining leftovers to Anastasia's place and made her take the food. She left before Anastasia had a chance to refuse, or to thank her, or to change the subject. In her mind, she would have liked to think that Anastasia would like the pot roast so much that she would call Amelia back and command her to return, but even deeper into her mind, she had already accepted that the roast was more likely a farewell gift.

By the end of the week, Amelia ran out of bay laurel leaves and discovered that she had put on an alarming five pounds, both of which were very good reasons for her to go hiking once again.

She climbed to the very top of the hiking trail, finding her solace in the trees around her, though as she looked up at the top of the forest canopy, she felt a distinct ache in her chest. She would give up this time in the woods without a second thought if she could be with Anastasia instead, even if the Austrian ended up dragging her to a boring opera show. She would bear through it, if only to show Anastasia that she could.

That night, Amelia returned home long after the sun had set, with a branch of bay laurel leaves, a wicked sunburn across her back, a tick bite, and a broken heart.

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And Anastasia, on the other hand, passing by a bistro that smelt distinctively of domestic bay leaves and wine, felt as though she had dodged a very precarious bullet.

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**A/N **;; Overall thoughts on this chapter: Uh… Whatthehellisthis?

**Remember to review **– it makes me a very happy authoress and prompts me to update a little bit faster.

Stay awesome, guys.


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